


Counting Coffee Spoons

by summerofspock



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Everybody Gets a Hug, Fluff, Gray ace jon, Jonathan Sims is a disaster, M/M, Minor Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Minor Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, especially martin, how many different ways can i tag an au, lbr so is martin, oh right, this will be as exactly full of tropes as you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24862891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: Martin Blackwood has worked at Magnus Coffee and Sundries for nearly eight years now. He likes his job. He likes his new manager even more. Even if Jon is a bit of a jerk. And also in a relationship. And would never give him the time of day even if he weren't.Or that's what Martin thinks anyway.
Relationships: Georgie Barker & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 491
Kudos: 1086
Collections: LikeAWarmHug





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> another wip. yes I know. but also I need jon and martin to hug each other so badly.
> 
> title is a vague play on Prufrock (because of course)

"Martin!" Jon shouts from the little room at the back of the coffee shop that became his office at some point. Though why he needs an office no one knows.

Martin flinches, scrambling at the last minute not to drop the stack of paper cups he’d been replacing.

Tim doesn’t even look up from where he’s refilling the swizzle stick container as he sucks in a sympathetic breath through his teeth. "Good luck in there, buddy."

Martin squeaks and runs his hands down his apron. Not that it matters. His hands are clean. His apron is dirty. There’s a spray of coffee grounds from when Sasha had unplugged the machine mid-grind, a streak of whipped cream he'd absentmindedly wiped on his hip instead of washing his hands.

Jon is going to say something about it. He just knows Jon is going to say something.

When he steps into the little office Jon glances up at him, eyebrows up as his gaze flicks up and down over the metal rims of his glasses and he doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. The tight line of his mouth says enough.

He looks at the paper in front of him and taps the back of his pen against it. 

"Martin," he says again, slightly less loud but with the same amount of derision. "We are short staffed tomorrow and I need someone to stay through close. Are you available?"

Martin fiddles with the pen in the pocket of his apron. "Yeah. Of course. I'll be here. That's fine."

Jon arches a solitary, black eyebrow so high it disappears into the fringe of salt and pepper hair that sweeps over his forehead. "Alright. It’s an event night so you know I wouldn't ask you unless there was no one else."

Jon turns back to his computer like he hasn't just delivered a scathing insight into his opinions about Martin Blackwood. Not that matters. Martin knew exactly what Jon thinks of him.

He just wishes he didn't have all these warm fuzzy feelings getting in the way of him hating the man.

**

Martin is not an idiot, no matter what his heart wants him to be. He knows pining after Jon is useless, futile and sometimes painful. But he can't stop himself. A therapist would probably say something about projecting his feelings onto something unattainable as a form of protection but Martin doesn't have a therapist. Which is probably good since they'd most likely have something to say about his relationship with his mother as well.

It's just that Jon is _nice_ when no one is looking. He rearranges the schedules so Sasha can have Friday afternoons off to pick up her nephew from daycare. He started the day old dollar pastries thing that so many students take advantage of. 

Martin is sort of obsessed with him. But it's the sort of quiet obsession he doesnt mind having. It's nice to be in love in a way that feels meaningless. 

It might not even be love. Can it be love if it isn’t requited? Martin knows it's something like love. It's soft in his chest whenever Jon graces someone with a rare smile. It flutters in his belly when Jon lets Martin bully him into eating something or drinking tea.

So when it's only him and Jon working the next evening, Martin has to give himself a good talking to in the toilets about not being weird. Or dropping anything. Or worse, saying something.

It shouldn't be too hard. It's an open mic night and there's a handful of people already in line so Martin doesn’t have to make conversation. Event nights are always the same, a big rush at the beginning. And then it’s a flurry of making drinks and sandwiches before the show starts and orders slow to a trickle. After that, it's just standing there while people read their poetry, and play their guitars. 

So working with Jon is fast and Martin can ignore the brush of their hands when he passes off another cup marked for a latte. Jon doesn't seem to notice even though Martin's heart skips a beat.

Martin doesn't know what it is about Jon that makes him feel so...so transfixed but he does. He tries not to stare or blush too much but he's hopeless.

Of course Jon marks his bumbling down to incompetence. Of course he does.

The rush of orders has slowed when Georgie arrives.

Martin doesn't want to call the feeling that always blooms in his chest when Georgie shows up jealousy. It’s more like envy. Georgie is gorgeous with her unblemished skin, her natural hair always coiffed to perfection. It's so different from Martin with his unruly flop of ginger curls, his unending spray of freckles that other kids mocked him for when they first started to come to him. People called him dirty but it was just the freckles slowly covering up his pale skin

Georgie and Jon make a striking couple. Where she is soft curves, he is harsh angles. She's slightly.taller than him and even Martin can admit it's cute when she bends slightly to brush a kiss over his cheek. 

"Hi, Martin," she says brightly and Martin grins

Jealousy or no, he likes Georgie. "Hi there, Georgie. I like your dress."

It's a lovely white sundress with eyelets in the hem that make it look a bit lacy. She's got those sort of wedge heels that make her look even taller than Jon. She elbows the man in question. "Why can't you give me compliments like Martin?" she teases.

"You wouldn't listen to me even if I said anything," Jon grumbles before turning on his heel and marching to his office. 

Georgie rolls her eyes affectionately and comes over to the till. "Can I get an iced coffee?"

Martin nods and rings her up. After he hands her the drink, she leans against the counter and slurps through her straw, eyes turned toward the stage where a young man is playing a guitar and crooning something slightly off-key and definitely a bit sad.

"So how have you been?" Martin asks awkwardly, not sure if he should make conversation.

"We broke top one hundred podcasts on spotify,'' Georgie says happily.

"Oh, that's great news!" Martin cries and then abruptly winces when he realizes how loud he's being. People aren't at the open mic night to hear him yell.

"Jon and I are going for drinks after. To celebrate. You should come," she says like the thought of going to drinks with Jonathan Sims and his girlfriend doesn’t give Martin heart palpitations.

"Oh no, I don't want to intrude. Besides, I’m supposed to stay and close."

Georgie blows a raspberry and says, "Not an intrusion. Melanie is coming and you'd be doing me a favor. Jon always needs a Melanie buffer."

Martin snorts.

"Once you're done closing. You should come."

Martin nods, still not sure.

"Jon has your number right? I'll make sure he texts you,'' Georgie says easily. Martin is pretty sure he's going to die just from the thought of getting a text from Jon.

"Er, yeah. Alright. Sure."

"Great!" Georgie says before swishing off like her only goal was to ask Martin to drinks. She swings past Jon’s office and waves. "Bye, Jon! See you in a bit."

Martin hears a gruff reply but chooses to ignore it in favor of keeping his heart rate regular as he turns back to watch the performers. A young woman comes up and orders a mocha and he's grateful for the distraction.

**

Martin has been working at Magnus Coffee and Sundries for eight years. Once upon a time, he would have said it wasn't a career or anything, but he's settled in and he likes it and being in love with his manager has certainly been a perk.

Jon, on the other hand, only took over the manager position six months ago, transferring from another branch at the behest of the franchise owner. And he takes his responsibilities deadly serious. Martin privately thinks he’ll loosen up a bit once he realizes none of it really matters and the shop basically runs itself. But Jon is always in his office, running numbers and doing scheduling and making sure event nights work out right. It's sort of cute in a frustrating way

Not that Martin would ever admit it.

When the event wraps up at nine, Martin goes around rearranging tables and chairs so everything is back in its usual place while Jon does the till. The little chime of it closing has Martin glancing up. 

Jon must feel his eyes on him because he says, "I'm heading out. If you're alright to finish closing."

The shop is closed to customers now so it's just a bit of cleaning and inventory. The sort of stuff Martin could do in his sleep. 

"Yup. Thanks, Jon."

Jon waves him off and gathers his coat from the office locking up behind him. "See you on Monday."

Martin tries not to be disappointed as he realizes that means Georgie’s invitation was mostly hot air. He's not invited to celebratory drinks because of course he's not. 

The bell tinkles and Jon disappears into the night. Sighing dramatically as a bit of an indulgence, Martin turns on music on his phone and gets to cleaning. It’s boring and surprisingly fast, maybe because Martin is so focused and determined to think of anything besides how nice Jon had looked in his sage green button down. Green is always a nice color on Jon. It makes his tawny brown skin glow in a way that's hard to look away from.

Martin might be smitten but even he can admit that Jon isn't...traditionally handsome. He has a big nose, slightly crooked, thin lips, and pock marks along his jaw either from a history of acne or a bad run in with chicken pox. Martin doesn't know. He likes the way Jon looks. He likes the imperfections because they make up _Jon_.

It's stupid but it's how Martin feels.

He's just finished restocking the milk when his phone chimes, interrupting the cheerful and spirited chords of _The Dog Days Are Over_.

Letting the door to the minifridge under the counter swing shut, he trots over to his phone where it's sat on the counter.

The notification on the screen says _Jon (Manager)_ from back when Jon had first started and Martin had deemed it necessary to differentiate him from the other two Jon’s in his phone who he didn't hear from anyway.

He swipes it open and gapes at the screen

_Hi Martin! It's Georgie. We are at Grifters Bone down the road if you want to join!_

Martin stares at the screen for far too long. It's not a text from Jon, but it's an invitation. Even through the trepidation rising in him, he knows he's going to join. He couldn't possibly pass up the opportunity.

_I'm just finishing up. Be there in fifteen!_

He makes it in ten.

Georgie, Jon, and Melanie (who Martin has only met once) are huddled around a table in the back of the bar. There are three empty shot glosses on the table and each of them have another drink in front of them. Georgie spots him first and waves him over.

"Martin!" she cries and pulls him into a hug. It might be the first hug Martin has had in months and it makes his chest feel full. He hadn't really thought he and Georgie were friends but as she hugs him, he plays back six months of her coming in to see Jon and always taking the time to chat with him about his day, to talk about her job, to share jokes at Jon's expense. They _are_ friends and Martin marvels at the fact that he failed to realize it until now.

"You've met Melanie, right?" Georgie says as she bullies him into setting.

"Yeah, ye-yeah," Martin stammers. Jon is glaring at him and his tongue feels heavy under the intense scrutiny. 

Melanie shoots him a grin and it helps Martin relax. Before he knows it, he's halfway through a pint and being questioned by the woman. 

"So you and Jon work together?" she asks, glancing between them with a smirk.

"Erm, yeah," Martin replies when Jon says nothing. "He manages the branch of Magnus that I work at."

"And how are Jon's managerial skills?" Melanie prompts, overpronouncing managerial like she wants to tease Jon.

Martin laughs awkwardly as Georgie swats at Melanie's arm in playful reprimand.

"He's, er, good at it? Always listens to us about scheduling and such. Better than the last manager for sure."

The team tries not to talk about Gertrude very much. She was definitely the ruthless type.

“We’re all glad to have him around,” Martin adds, flushing immediately at how revealing that is. When he glances at Jon, he’s staring into his wine glass, lips thin and expression as angry as always. At least he doesn’t look angrier. Just regular angry. 

Uncomfortable, Martin redirects the conversation to Georgie, prompting her to talk more about her recent success. She glows under the attention and Martin is just happy to not be under direct scrutiny. Even though she’s happy and rambling, Jon won’t stop scowling at her which Martin thinks is a sort of rude way to look at your girlfriend. Unless that’s just how Jon looks at people he’s fond of. Which is impossible because that’s how he looks at Martin.

Martin takes a deep drink of his beer and pushes the thought away. He doesn’t need to start making up reasons in his head that Jon actually likes him. That’s monumentally stupid. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which jon is an idiot
> 
> I think this fic will clock in at 10 to 20k but I'm not sure and that's a wide and variable target. I think it means about 10 chapters but I'm leaving the chapter count a ? for now

Martin Blackwood is...a problem.

Georgie calls having a crush on someone single and sweet the opposite of a problem. Crush is her word. Jon would never call it something so hackneyed. 

He will admit he is interested in Martin in ways that exceed the platonic. Even he can acknowledge that much. 

He isn't sure if Martin remembers him from before he started at Magnus. Given the sheer number of patrons at this particular Magnus location, he doubts it, but Jon remembers him.

When he'd been working at the library, he used to come here for coffee every Monday morning at 7:45 am as a pick-me-up. Martin always worked the morning shift.

After three Mondays, Martin knew his order by heart. Coffee, cream, two sugars.

It had caught at Jon's heart, the old, shriveled thing. This giant redhead who smiled unselfconsciously despite the gap in his teeth, despite Jon's returning scowl.

It was unfair. And Jon had decided he wasn't going to pay attention to his heart. Because it was useless and stupid and had never done him any good.

And now he is Martin's manager and sees him every day and has to forcibly remind himself that Martin is a bumbling oaf who he refuses to have any warm feelings towards at all.

It would work just fine if he had never mentioned Martin to Georgie.

It was Movie Friday at Georgie's flat a month after Jon had started at the new position at Magnus and Jon had absentmindedly said that Martin had recommended a documentary and maybe they should watch it.

Georgie had latched on with all the tenacity of a shark.

Who is Martin? Is he handsome? Do you get along?

And so started Georgie's slow and tedious mission to force Jon to ask Martin out. 

"Or at least be nice to him," she'd said over dinner one night. "I remember how you used to be with me before we went out. An absolute monster."

She wasn't wrong.

That is all to say that this is how Jon ends up with Martin at the pub with Georgie and Melanie making fun of him right where Martin can see.

He keeps hiding his laugh behind his hand when Melanie does an impression of him but he's definitely laughing. 

"Yes, alright" Jon says, trying to get them to stop. "Yes that's what I sound like. I don't see why that's so entertaining."

"It's just so accurate," Martin says, still laughing. His face turns a bit pink but he's still smiling and Jon  _ hates _ how it makes his heart skip a beat. It's so utterly cliche.

Jon grumbles and feels his own ears get hot.

Georgie gives a performative yawn and stretch. "I suppose I should head home. Want to share a cab, Melanie?"

The horrid woman grins for reasons Jon cant understand and nods.

"Oh, shouldn't you two be going home together?" Martin says, pointing between Jon and Georgie.

Georgie frowns. "What? No. We don't live together."

"Oh. Right," Martin says and stares at his mostly full pint in consternation. 

"Jon can stay while you finish your drinks. Won't you, Jon?" Georgie says pointedly as she puts on her jean jacket. 

Jon glares daggers at her but feels cornered. He  _ knows  _ it would be rude to say no and leave now. "Yes, alright, fine."

"You dont have to," Martin rushes to say even as Georgie swans off with Melanie in tow. Jon watches them lace their hands together before pushing through the door and narrows his eyes. Are they --

"Sorry you're stuck with me. I'll be quick," Martin says, gulping at his beer like a drowning fish.

"It's fine," Jon says forcefully. He can't ignore the way Martin's throat works as he drinks, the way he slides the back of his hand over his mouth. It should be disgusting. And yet Jon just wants to  _ touch _ him.

He's no stranger to this sort of skin hunger. He feels it all the time. Georgie touches him occasionally but it's not the same. He doesn't want her touch the way he wants to touch Martin. Martin is warm and bright and pretty and Jon wants to curl up on him like a cat and sleep for several days.

Martin glances around nervously and Jon realizes he's staring. He jerks his gaze away, instead focusing on his hands. 

"The event tonight was good. The open mic," Martin ventures.

"Yes," Jon says and he hears how clipped and harsh the single word is. He tries to temper it by adding, "Thank you for working."

Martin takes a more sedate drink of his pint. "It's no problem. I know you don't really like working shifts with me but event nights are good for tips so I'm glad you asked."

Jon looks up. Blinks. Blinks again. It doesn't do anything to clear the look of resignation on Martin's face. 

"You think I don't like working with you," he says flatly, not liking the taste of them as they roll off his tongue.

Martin swipes a finger through the condensation on his glass and looks anywhere but at Jon. Jon wishes he would look at him. He's not good at reading people but Martin's eyes are usually so expressive. Maybe he could figure out what's going on in that head.

"I mean you said you didn't even want to ask me…" Martin begins and then shakes his head. "Nevermind. I'm being stupid. We don't need to talk about this. I'll just go."

Without planning to, Jon's hand shoots out to grasp Martin's wrist. They both stare at where their skin touches and Jon can't tell which of them is more shocked.

"Sasha and Tim were both busy. I didn't want to ask you because you'd worked enough hours this week. Not because of some...personal vendetta," Jon says.

He is acutely aware that he has not withdrawn his hand. Martin's hands are warm. As warm as Jon always thought they'd be. 

"Oh," Martin says, visibly relaxing. "Oh!" 

And then he smiles and it's blinding and Jon is an idiot obviously out of his mind because he's touching Martin and Martin is smiling and Jon says, "We should do this again sometime."

Martin's smile disappears. "What? You want to get drinks again? With  _ me _ ?"

"Yes with you," Jon says, snatching his hand back and scowling. This is why he doesn't put himself out there. He tries and he gets Martin's incredulity because of course, why would he want to go on a date with  _ Jon _ of all people--

"I'd like that," Martin says and his smile is back, soft at the edges.

Jon feels that same urge, that desire to reach out and touch. To maybe trace the softness of Martin's face. To  _ kiss _ him. He shoves it away. He's done enough vulnerability for one night. He can examine those urges at a later date. Or perhaps never. It depends on how this whole foray into a potential romance goes.

"Would next Friday be suitable for your schedule?" Jon asks, falling back on practicalities because those are better and more functional than messy things like emotions.

"Friday works great," Martin says. His smile is still soft. Lovely.

_ It's a date _ , Jon doesn't add because that is trite and the sentiment is obviously implied.


	3. Chapter 3

It's a weird week. Martin doesn't work Saturday or Sunday but when he arrives on Monday for his shift, Jon comes out of his office and  _ smiles _ at him. It's small but it's most certainly a smile. Jon asks him how his weekend was and Martin manages to stammer out a reply. He's not entirely sure what the reply was but words leave his mouth so that's good enough.

As soon as Jon disappears into his office, Tim and Sasha are on him.

"What just happened?" Tim demands, eyes wide. 

Martin looks to Sasha helplessly, but she looks just as curious.

"I don't...I don't know."

Tim's eyes narrow. "Did something finally happen between you two?"

"No! Of course not!" Martin insists. Then he breaks, "I had drinks with him and his girlfriend on Friday and I don't know...we bonded or something. He asked if I wanted to hang out again and I said sure so...maybe we're friends now?"

Tim gapes at him then at Sasha then back at him. "You got the invitation before  _ me _ ? Do you know how long I've been working on him? I ask him to come out for drinks with me and Sash every time we close together. No dice. What did you do? How did you manage it? Are you the jon whisperer? There's no way. Last Monday he hated you."

Martin winces and glances back at Jon’s office. The door is open and Tim is being awfully loud. Even though what he's saying is basically common knowledge, he doesn't want Jon to hear it. "Maybe he invited me out to fire me on neutral ground or something."

He laughs awkwardly at the halfhearted joke. For some reason his made up scenario is just as plausible as actual friendly drinks.

“Is it just you and Jon? That’s—” Sasha breaks off, brow furrowing.

Martin shakes his head. “No. I’m pretty sure Georgie will be there. Jon wasn’t exactly clear.”

Tim scoffs and grunts, “When is he ever.”

They both disregard him as Sasha offers, not very helpfully, "Maybe they'll cancel before you have to go?"

Martin ignores the disappointed swooping of his stomach and laughs again. "Yeah. Hopefully."

The bell on the door tinkles and it's time to get back to work.

The whole week is like this. Jon says good morning to him and, when he has to help with orders, he doesn't growl at Martin about using the wrong shorthand on the cups or forgetting to refill the sandwich lettuce in the fridge.

Well, he doesn't growl too much. And when he does, it sort of has a different tone.

Martin has to be imagining it though because in his mind he thinks the growling is fond. Maybe teasing? He's probably just high on the fact that Jon wants to spend time with him at all and his brain has decided to make up all sorts of other signs that Jon  _ likes  _ him. Which he can't, because he has a girlfriend who is a wonderful, beautiful person and Jon, whatever his foibles, is hardly a cheater.

And he's probably straight, Martin reminds himself as he makes a triple mocha with extra whipped cream

The shots are dripping out of the machine as he steams the milk and he can’t stop thinking about it. He's just full of wishful thinking. Georgie is going to be there and Martin will be a third wheel but it will still be friendly. Which is more than Martin ever dared hope for. There is no looming threat of adultery or anything untoward. Martin might be head over heels for the man but he can be respectful. Jom’s in a relationship. With a woman. And that's that.

And when Friday comes and Jon appears in the door to his office like a looming monstrosity, a deep scowl on his face, Martin shrinks into himself. He'd dropped a gallon of milk earlier and had spent far too long mopping up the mess. Jon had chastised him and then shut himself in his office for an hour before reappearing.

"Martin " Jon says sharply, making Martin snap to attention where he was scribbling little lines of poetry into his notepad.

"Yes, Jon?" Martin asks, bright enough that he's fairly certain the nervous tremor in his voice is undetectable. He knows Jon is going to cancel. It's been a week and Jon has had to put up with his bumbling and milk spilling and general awkwardness.

Jon clears his throat and glances away. "Are we still—that is to say...are you still interested in drinks tonight?"

"Yes," Martin says, far too quickly, hands flying out and sending his tiny notebook and pencil clattering to the ground. 

Before he can even move, Jon drops down to retrieve it, crossing the little work area to hand them back to Martin. Their fingers brush for a moment that stretches on for what feels like an eternity and Martin can't be imagining the way Jon's eyes trace his face. Jon is a full head shorter than him and then some so he has to tilt his head back slightly, exposing the beautiful column of his throat. 

Martin swallows.

The moment breaks as soon as Jon pulls away. He fiddles with the collar of his entirely unnecessary dress shirt (who wears button downs to work at a coffee shop? Jon Sims, that's who). "Perhaps we could get dinner first? There's a noodle place right by Grifter’s that I, ah... that's very good."

The more Jon talks, the more Martin feels like this  _ is _ a date. He forcefully reminds himself that that's impossible and nods. "Yeah! Sounds great. I love noodles."

He wants to slap himself in the face for saying something so inane but Jon just nods jerkily and disappears back into the little closet-cum-office.

"What the hell was that?" Tim demands, suddenly by his shoulder and fixing him with a look that is equal parts incredulity and delight.

"I told you we were going for drinks,'' Martin says forcefully, going to the sink to do some washing up.

"You didn't say it was a daaaaaate." Tim draws out the last word like it's absolutely salacious.

"It's not a  _ date _ ," Martin hisses, hoping Jon isn't listening. "Georgie will be there. His girlfriend if you’ll recall? This is friendly."

Tim looks at him quizzically. "Right. Dinner and drinks. As bros. You and Jon. Bros."

Martin's face is getting hot but he refuses to look at Tim. "Yes. That's  _ it _ ."

Tim hums noncommittally just as the door tinkles and he's called off to help a customer.

Martin sighs and grips the edge of the sink. This is a terrible idea. Why did he think spending time with Jon would be anything other than a study in mortification. 

**

It’s turning to fall but the weather is still warm so Martin feels sweaty and ungainly in his sweater as he waits for Jon by the door of the cafe. His stomach is in knots from equal parts anticipation and extreme fear. He hopes it will go away soon, but he doubts he’ll be that lucky.

The door to Jon’s office slams shut, drawing Martin’s attention. Jon looks particularly disheveled today and Martin wonders if something happened. He looks like he’s run his hands through his hair too many times, there’s a pencil stuck behind his ear and he somehow has the appearance of fidgeting even as he strides across the open floor of the shop.

“Are you alright?” Martin asks, firmly telling himself that stuffing his hands in his pockets will do nothing to alleviate his nerves and just make him look even more hulking than he already is.

“Yes,” Jon says dismissively. “I’m fine. Are you ready?”

Martin thinks he is definitely  _ not _ fine, but he doesn’t know how to ask so he nods and follows Jon out of the shop.

Martin doesn’t recognize the noodle place Jon drags him into. They order at the counter and Martin’s hands itch to remove the pencil that’s still perched behind Jon’s ear. He has nice ears. 

What a stupid thought. Except now Martin cant stop looking at his ears because they ARE nice. They have a nice curve to them. The lobe connects with the delicate skin of his neck and just behind it are the tightly trimmed hairs that make Martin think Jon goes to a professional barber. 

When they take a seat to wait for their food, Martin breaks the silence. "So...is Georgie meeting us at the bar?"

Jon looks at him sharply, thick brows furrowing behind the thin, metal frame of his glasses. "Why would Georgie meet us there?"

With a wash of cold fear, Martin realizes Georgie is not coming. It's just him and Jon...hanging out. Oh God.

Oh God.

Martin laughs, high and awkward. "Right yeah. Nevermind."

Their food arrives and Jon is terrible with his chopsticks but doesn't seem to know it. He manages a noodle or two at a time but mostly they just slip and slide out of his grip. His frown slowly deepens but that's the only indication he's feeling frustrated.

Martins is halfway done with his meal when he finally takes pity on him.

"God, that's not how you…" Martin reaches out and grabs his wrist. Jon freezes and looks up at him. The dim light of the shop make his eyes look black and martin thinks of ink and starlight and— 

He forces himself to focus. "You’re doing it all wrong. It'll take you ages to eat anything like that."

Jons frown deepens, a whole bevy of wrinkles appearing on his forehead. Martin pushes through. "You've got to hold the bottom one stable," he says, showing Jon with his own hand. "And then the top like a pencil. So you can pinch."

Jon stares at his hand and then looks at his own in bewilderment. He jams one of the chopsticks into the bowl of noodles so it sits upright and places the other in the crook of his hand. It's too far back but it's a start.

Martin reaches out and adjusts his grip. For some reason it feels stupidly intimate. Like they're holding hands. But they're not. They're eating spicy noodles after work. Like friends. 

Jon grunts and tries again, managing a few more noodles.

"Oh, that is easier," he muses and Martin bites back a smile.

When they get to Grifter's, a tight silence has fallen between them. Martin wants to break it but he doesn't know how. Instead, he scuttles off and gets their drinks so he has a moment to catch his breath and get himself together. 

Jon is fiddling with his phone when he gets back to the table. His salt and pepper hair has fallen into his face, all mussed from toying with it all day and he's so utterly nice to look at that Martin wants to stop time and just try to do the image justice. He looks up at Martin's approach and smiles. 

Martin thinks his heart is going to give out at this rate. Two Jon smiles in one day. He welcomes death if this is how he goes.

As he sits down, Jon sets the phone face up on the table and pushes it towards him. 

"Would you rather discuss current events, our respective childhoods, or a miscellaneous topic of your choosing?"

Martin looks down at the text on the phone and sees a list of...topics?

"Did you—" Martin breaks off in disbelief. "Did you bring notes?"

Jon bristles. "I wanted to be prepared in case the conversation grew awkward. I've been informed my social skills are often lacking and I didnt want you getting bored."

Martin, if he were alone at home in bed, would be rolling around making ridiculous noises because Jon is  _ so cute _ . 

He coughs and takes a long drink of his pint. "I think childhood is a no from me. But if you’d like to talk about it…”

Jon’s nose wrinkles. “No, thank you. You know, I shouldn’t have even put that on the list.”

“What about movies?” Martin offers, taking pity on him. Jon looks so disgruntled at himself and that’s somehow even cuter.

“Movies,” Jon replies flatly. A question.

“Yeah, what sort do you like?”

“Documentaries mostly. Though Georgie made me watch...hmm, what was it called? There were pirates I believe. That was alright.”

There are a lot of films with pirates but Martin hazards a guess based on what he knows about Georgie. “Was it Pirates of the Caribbean?”

Jon hums. “That sounds correct. I can’t be sure.”

Martin laughs and Jon visibly relaxes which feels  _ good _ . He wants this to be a good time. If it’s good then maybe they will do it again and work will get easier because Jon will be nicer (and Martin can secretly feed his little crush in his private time). 

“So have you seen any good documentaries lately? The last one I watched was months ago.”

“Yes, you said. The Staircase. A bit gruesome for my tastes but well made.”

Martin wracks his brain. Did he mention it to Jon? Did Jon  _ remember _ ? Did Jon  _ take it as a recommendation and watch it _ ?

Jon doesn’t notice his panic and starts launching into a description of a documentary about the history of hygiene.

“Did you know mouthwash is just a marketing scheme based on antisemitism?” Jon begins, eyes lighting up when Martin shakes his head. “It was originally marketed as floor cleaner. This stuff we’re supposed to gargle. Floor cleaner!”

This is how Martin learns that, when Jon gets excited, he moves his hands a lot, sometimes slapping them on the table, but mostly making emphatic gestures that make no sense. When he’s explaining something, his dark eyes get bright and the lines of his face smooth out. He looks young and vibrant and lovely.

And Martin is uselessly, hopelessly in love.

“There’s a new documentary about urban legends Georgie recommended. I’ve been meaning to watch it,” Jon says when he finally finishes his tirade. “Perhaps we could watch it sometime. If you’re interested.”

Martin literally cannot believe this is happening. First, dinner and drinks with Jon Sims and now  _ future plans _ . Maybe he’s been in an accident and this is one of those coma dreams.

“Ye-yeah. I’d love that.”

He’s graced with a third Jon Sims Smile and, if this is a coma dream, Martin never wants to wake up.

The clock rounds to eleven and they call it a night, drifting out of the steadily filling pub as the late nighters begin to make their appearance.

They stop just outside and Jon visibly hesitates. Then he reaches out with one hand and claps Martin on the shoulder. A brief squeeze.

"Goodnight, Martin," Jon says. "I'll see you at work on Sunday."

Martin, still reeling from the strangely affectionate shoulder clap, nods and says, "Yep! Sunday!"

Jon turns, pauses, and says, "Text me when you get home. That you got home alright."

Before Martin can reply, Jon walks off in the opposite direction leaving him dumbstruck. He feels like he's swallowed a gazillion alka seltzer tabs. His stomach is fizzing. His whole body is fizzing.

_ Text me when you get home _ might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him.

When he falls into bed a short time later, he thumbs open his screen to Jon's contact info. The last message exchange is from Georgie asking him to meet them at Grifter's.

That sobers him right up. Georgie. Right.

_ Home! Thanks for tonight! _

Martin sends it and drops the phone to his chest. That was neutral, right? Not flirtatious?

His phone buzzes and he scrambles to look at the screen.

_ I also enjoyed myself. I look forward to our movie night. _

Martin smiles stupidly at his phone. Things are going well for once and he's going to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't shake this idea of Jon bringing cue cards on a date so I had to write some version of that. he is such a nerd and i love him


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shortish chapter but mostly because i wanted to jump to martin's POV pretty quick but not within the same chapter. please enjoy the dumb escapades of these idiots in love
> 
> no betas we die like archival assistants

The date had gone swimmingly. Jon had only had to pull his topics list out once and Martin didn't even act like it was weird to make one. He'd gotten this look on his face—exasperated but fond was how Jon chose to read it. Martin had laughed his broad laugh and smiled his broad smile and it could not have possibly gone better.

They even have another date planned which is far beyond Jon's wildest imagination of what dating success looks like.

It’s Saturday morning and Jon is making scrambled eggs to celebrate the small victory of the night before when his phone buzzes on the kitchen counter beside him. He scrapes the eggs into a bowl and lets them cool for a moment as he swipes open his phone to see Georgie has texted him.

_How did it go?_

_You don't need to mother hen me._

_Who said I care about you? I want gossip_

_It went well. Thank you for asking._

_Did you smooch? :eyes:_

_No. It's far too soon for that._

_Well don't wait for 6 weeks before kissing the man. Hell think you're friendzoning him or something_

Jon considers that. He thinks about how cozy Martin had looked at Grifter’s, about how Martin absentmindedly pushes his glasses up even when they don't need to be adjusted. He wants to wrap his arms around Martin and squeeze. A bit like how he feels around the Admiral. Except he doesn't want to kiss the Admiral. He hopes Martin would like to kiss him.

What a truly puerile train of thought.

_I'll take it under advisement._

_;)_

_**_

On Sunday Jon is supposed to be working with Martin. He would be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to it. He thought about it periodically on Saturday every time he picked up his phone to text Martin something along the lines of _last night was fun_ which was unnecessary so he talked himself out of it.

He's looking forward to it so much that when he walks in at noon and Martin isn't there behind the till, his heart drops.

He goes back into his office and sets himself up for the day. He knows the schedule back and forth. Martin was supposed to open that morning. He should still be there.

After staring at his phone and willing it to materialize a text from Martin to no avail, Jon goes onto the floor and asks Sasha, "Where’s Martin?"

Sasha gives him an unimpressed look and goes back to steaming milk. "He called me this morning to let me know he wouldn't be in. Did he not text you?"

"No. He did not,” Jon says darkly and Sasha stops him from rushing off by putting a hand on his forearm.

He looks down at the contact and frowns. Sasha doesn’t seem to notice his expression because she just pats his arm indulgently and says, "Be nice to him. He sounded a bit harried on the phone."

Jon’s frown only deepens. As Martin’s manager, Martin had a duty to let him know he would be absent, but Jon would be lying if he didn’t acknowledge that, on some level, he wishes Martin would reach out to him because they are...seeing each other. He realizes abruptly that he's _jealous_ of Sasha which is ridiculous. He nods brusquely. "Thank you, Sasha, I'll follow up with him directly."

He goes back into his office and pulls out his phone just to stare at it. What does he say? There's a worry that hooks at the base of his ribs that Martin doesn't want to hear from him at all and that's why he didn't tell him. But that worry is nothing in comparison to his worry over Martin’s well being.

_Good morning, Martin. I just got in to work and saw you called out. I hope you are well._

Jon stares at the text. No reply. He supposes it might take more than five seconds for Martin to—

_SHIT I'M SO SORRY. I should have called and let you know. Sasha said she had it handled._

_It's alright. Are you ill?_

_Am I in trouble if I say no?_

_No._

_It's just some personal stuff._

_I'll be back tomorrow. You wont need to rearrange the schedule or anything._

The worry digs its hooks in deeper, tugging at his ribs. Does Martin think all he cares about is work?

Perhaps that's fair. He thinks he might have given that impression.

_I'm not concerned about the schedule. I simply wanted to check in on you._

_Oh! Well, thanks, Jon. I'll be alright._

_Let me know if you need anything. I have been told I am a very capable errand runner._

Martin doesn't reply and Jon wonders if he's overstepped. He does wish to help but he has difficulty being certain how he is supposed to express concern.

The day passes slowly and the worry in Jon's stomach only grows sharper, burrows deeper. It's nearly five when Jon succumbs and pulls out his phone again. He usually tries to avoid checking it on shift so as not to be a bad example. Still nothing from Martin.

He gathers his nerves and types out

 _I hope you're feeling better_.

He doesn't get a reply until late that night.

_Sorry Jon, I dont think I'm going to make it in tomorrow. Can I ask Tim to cover my shift?_

The worry turns into full blown concern and while he responds in the affirmative, he comes to a decision right then and there.

**

After a very dull and Martin-less Monday, Jon hauls himself to the grocery store. He knows exactly what to purchase and moves quickly through the shop.

One of Jon’s particularly irritating quirks (or so he has been informed) is his ability to memorize useless things. He has a wealth of knowledge about all sorts of mundane topics, but the real bane of his existence is his ability to remember things he's only seen once. Like his employees addresses and phone numbers. He'd forget them if he could. But in this case, he believes this information will be helpful.

It's only when he's standing in front of the door to Martin's flat that he realizes what he's doing might be creepy. It's too late however because he's already knocked and the door is swinging open and there's Martin.

"Jon?" he asks and the worry inside Jon bleeds out of him. Martin is alright. He does look a bit of a mess, pajama clad and unshaven.

It's sort of comforting to look at him. He looks soft. He looks...like _Martin_.

"Hello, Martin."

And then Martin smiles at him.

When Martin smiles it's like...Jon is not a poet, but Martin's smile is like the sunrise, like the first glimpse of light after a thunderstorm. His whole face transforms. Brown eyes lighting up, smile spreading over his mouth without a hint of self-consciousness despite the gap in his front teeth, despite the way his chin tucks down revealing a roll of fat that looks soft and wonderful. Jon wants to press a kiss to it, to that soft place under Martin's jaw. But it would be difficult to reach standing up, which brings to mind Jon maybe being in Martin’s lap or cuddling in bed, somewhere Jon can tuck his face into Martin’s neck and breathe deep. Martin probably smells good. Like sweet things. Jon imagines he smells like almonds and vanilla and sweet pastry.

Or maybe Jon is hungry.

He looks down at his feet and thrusts out the paper bag. "I thought I could make you dinner. If you're ill."

Martin takes the bag and peers inside with awe. "Make _me_ dinner? What?"

"You said you've had a difficult few days. Have you eaten anything substantial?" Jon meets Martin's gaze and regrets it because all his mind can do is fire off signals that scream at him to kiss the stupid look of Martin’s face.

"Erm…"

Jon's legs start to twitch. He wants to move. Maybe he wants to run off. Or maybe he just wants to force himself inside and bully Martin into sitting down and _eating_. "When was your last meal?"

"I think I ate breakfast?" Martin says, nose wrinkling up in a way that is devastatingly cute.

Jon wants to roll his eyes at himself. He is pathetic. Alas, that is the risk one runs when falling in love.

"Let me cook. I'm quite good at it."

"Humble too," Martin murmurs with a snort as he lets Jon inside.

"Have you got cinnamon? I've brought the other spices from home, but thought you’d have that one,'' Jon says, half to himself as he goes into the kitchen. He should get chopping. Martin has a knife block with a cutting board tucked behind it . He pulls it out and begins to methodically retrieve vegetables.

Martin trots after him. "Should have some somewhere. What are you making?"

"Baqala polow," Jon replies. "Persian rice."

"Oh. _Oh!_ Are you Persian?" Martin asks as if that answers everything.

"No. I’m English," Jon says archly. "My grandmother, however, was Persian. She made this often."

Martin is staring at him while he washes his hands and Jon gives him a flat look. "What?"

Martin shakes his head. "It's just..if you'd told me a week ago I'd have you in my flat cooking me one of your grandmother's recipes I would have had you locked up."

Jon's stomach butterflies decide to Do Some Things which, in turn, makes his face heat. "Well, yes. Perhaps it is strange. I can go, if you'd like."

Martin shakes his head again, this time more forcefully. "No. It's great. It's grand."

Jon meets his eyes and he can _feel_ the stupid expression take over his face. Their eyes lock and Jon’s hands freeze on the leek he’s just pulled out of its produce bag. Would it be an awful idea to kiss Martin for the first time while holding a leek? Jon is fairly certain leeks are low on the list of romantic vegetables.

It doesn’t matter because Martin turns his attention to a cupboard, digging through it for spices. "So what's Georgie up to tonight?" Martin asks, sounding choked.

Not entirely sure of the abrupt topic change, Jon pushes aside the brief flare of disappointment and answers Martin's questions.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick cw for this chapter: Martin is having a depressive episode so he gets sort of sad for a hot second and theres some negative self talk  
> But there are also hugs! So i hope that makes up for the little bit of angst.

Martin has no idea what is happening. Jonathan Sims is in his house. He's standing in front of Martin's stove wearing an apron he brought from home -- it's black and the hem is dotted with little stars -- and quietly making thoughtful noises as he stirs spices into his concoction.

Martin had woken up the day before in a fog that was all too familiar. It happened occasionally, usually at the turn of the seasons. He’d wake up and, for seemingly no reason, his eyes would be gummy, his limbs heavy. Thinking would feel like wading through a swamp and Martin just  _ couldn’t _ . 

Sasha and Tim sort of know how it is for him. Or at least, they’ve inferred. Martin has never out and out said anything like  _ oh, yeah, sometimes I have debilitating seasonal depression. _ But they always cover for him without too many questions and check in on him in the evenings with nice texts or by sending memes. 

Jon hasn’t been at Magnus long enough to see it happen and Martin wishes it weren’t happening at all. He feels greasy and unpresentable with his unshaven face and his flannel pajamas. He at least showered that morning. That isn’t always the case when he got into these funks.

Jon’s glasses are clearly steaming as he leans over the stove. He pushes them up his forehead and into his hair, causing tufts of it to stand up straight. 

"Wait." The word drops from Martin’s mouth in lieu of anything more embarrassing like  _ you’re so cute. Why are you here? I’m so in love with you and this is a terrible idea. _

Jons hand freezes in its circular motion, a wood spoon clutched in his hand. God, his fingers look delicate. Martin wants to cradle them in his hand. Maybe lace their fingers together. The thought sends a rush of excitement straight to his stomach. Can you be horny for holding hands?

"How did you know where I live?"

It's an honest question. Not accusatory. Jon removes the spoon and places the lid atop the pan before turning to face Martin. He looks so handsome with his glasses pushed up and away. Silly and ridiculous and so, so handsome. Martin is going to combust in his own kitchen because Jon Sims is so terribly handsome.

"I'm sorry. I have this..." Jon waves his hand around frenetically, “this  _ thing _ where I remember numbers I read. If it makes you feel better, I know Tim and Sasha’s addresses by heart as well."

Martin takes that all in. "You have a photographic memory?"

"No," Jon says, knocking his glasses back down onto his nose with a flick of his finger before turning back to fiddle with the hob. "I remember things with numbers in them. Sequences. Photographic memory implies I remember everything I see and I assure you that is not the case."

"Oh, well, that's...that explains a lot," Martin says. It does. Jon’s ability to do the till at the end of a shift is unmatched. His uncanny knowledge of vendor phone numbers and supply serial numbers is often bordering on eerie. Tim has made more than one robot joke.

Jon snorts and one corner of his mouth twitches in a smile. "I suppose it does."

Martin does not clutch at his chest like a swooning maiden, but his heart is leaping so wildly he feels like he should. Jon Sims is in his kitchen  _ laughing _ . It cuts through the fizzy, foggy feeling that’s been plaguing him and he sags against the counter.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Jon regards him, eyes flicking up and down as if he’s taking him all in and something in his face makes Martin feel exposed. He squirms under the attention, unused to being  _ looked _ at like that. 

"You can defrost the broad beans, " Jon says finally, gesturing with his spoon towards the counter where the paper sack he brought is still sat, half-full of ingredients.

Martin retrieves the packaged beans and reads the defrost instructions before putting them in the microwave. The plate inside whirs, clicking occasionally as the chipped underside skids over the rotating base. God, his microwave is rubbish. 

He looks over the cut-out window above the sink and into the living room, sees his ratty brown sofa, the coffee table with the broken leg propped up with an old waterworn textbook, and shame curls tight around his heart. He clears his throat in an attempt to loosen the choking sensation but it does nothing as the feeling migrates up behind his eyes. With horror, he realizes he's going to cry.

Jon absolutely cannot see that.

He retrieves the beans and sets them on the counter. "Ready when you are," he says as brightly as he can manage. "I'll be right back."

With that, he scuttles back to his bedroom and shuts the door, dropping his head back against the wood and letting out a long, shuddering breath. He's so stupid. This is pathetic. Crying over things he can't change. He's too poor to own nice things, too poor to live in a nice flat with bright, clean windows and good water pressure. This is his life and he is going to be happy about it. He refuses to feel anything else.

Despite his resolve, the choking tears come anyway. He's been fighting a breakdown exactly like this for two days. Of course it would come the minute Jonathan Sims is in his house. He swipes the sleeve of his sweater under his nose and sniffles uselessly. Tears slide down his cheeks and he drops to the ground, back against the door as he wraps his arms around his knees. 

Somewhere in a distant part of his mind, he knows he's going to be fine but that doesnt stop the feeling of imminent catastrophe grasping at him. Jon is going to see that he's a failure. He's going to see that he isn't sick and fire him. Even though he said it was fine, it isn't and Jon's going to--

"Martin?"

The voice followed by a sharp knock yanks Martin from his spiraling thoughts. He scrambles to his feet and wipes at his eyes.

"Sorry! Just a minute"

He closes his eyes, swallows hard and opens the door.

Jon stares at him, those brown-black eyes absolutely piercing. His brow wrinkles. "What's happened?"

"Nothing!" he rushes to say and he can hear the response already, eerily in his mother's voice,  _ Get over yourself. Stop crying. Tears don't fix anything. _ Jon's absolutely the sort of person who thinks like that.

Before he can brush past Jon and trudge back into the kitchen, a hand is on his elbow, slim and steadying.

"I thought you said you weren't ill," Jon says quietly. It's a tone Martin doesn't think he's ever heard Jon use before. soft. Concerned.

All at once, the choking feeling returns. "I'm not."

Jons forehead scrunches. "Right."

"I'm not ill. I'm just...I'm just a little sad is all. Personal stuff. You know. I'll get over it."

Jon looks very much disgruntled by Martin's words, mouth going thin. "You're allowed to be sad."

The simple sentence (What was it? Five words?) hits Martin like a cartoon anvil. He can hear the birds chirping about his head.

"We don't have to talk about it," Jon says, still soft and God, it does something to Martin's insides. "But you don't have to hide it."

A sound bursts from Martin's mouth which is at least half a sob. He throws his arms around Jon who rocks back under the sudden weight.

"Since when are you nice to me," Martin says, unable to pull away lest Jon see the mess of tears and smiles that is his face.

"I can be nice," Jon grumbles into his chest as his arms come up around Martin's back. He feels Jon relax in his arms and it's that sensation that ends up making his heart jump around in his chest. It's like Jon hasn't been hugged in days, weeks, years. Like Martin is the first person to hug him ever which isn't possible because Jon has Georgie--

The thought of Georgie is startlingly sobering and Martin untangles himself from Jon, trying not to regret the hug (or ending it).

"Sorry," Martin says, chagrined as he pushes his hair back from his forehead.

Jon  _ smiles _ at him, a tiny, shy thing that blows all the thoughts from Martin's head.

"It's alright. I'm glad to know what's going on. Come along. Dinner will be ready soon."

Martin follows after Jon, shell-shocked by the sight of that smile and still feeling the lingering warmth of their embrace.

He is so fucked.

**

As Jon dishes out the aromatic rice, Martin begs off to wash his hands, but what he really does is high tail it into the bathroom and call Sasha.

"Martin, are you alright?" she asks when she answers.

Martin is huddled in the shower as far away from the door as possible so Jon can't hear him have a breakdown on the phone. "Sasha, I am freaking out. Jon is in my flat and I accidentally hugged him and I'm not sure--"

"Slow down," Sasha says. "Jon is in your flat? Wait, how do you accidentally hug someone?"

"I don't know!" Martin hisses. "I had a lot of feelings and Jon was being nice and then I don't know, I hugged him."

"Right."

Martin has no idea how to interpret her tone but he thinks she might be laughing at him.

"Sasha! This is not funny! Jon has a girlfriend and I'm a terrible person."

"A girlfriend?" 

"Yes," Martin says with a sigh. "Georgie. The pretty girl who comes in and talks to him all the time?"

"That's not what I-- Of course I know Georgie. It's just that her and Jon--"

There's a loud rustling and then Tim's voice is booming through the speaker. "Marto! What is this I hear about Jon?"

"Nothing, Tim!" Martin says, voice going all high-pitched and squeaky. Tim is going to tease him and he  _ cannot _ handle that right now. "What are you doing with Sasha?"

"It's our anniversary!" Tim says and Martin can hear his shit-eating grin. "And if you don't mind, we're going to get back to it. Toodles, Martin."

Martin stares at his blank phone screen and drifts out of the bathroom. Jon is waiting for him at the kitchen table.

"Did you know Tim and Sasha are dating?"

Jon looks up from where he's rearranging a napkin in his lap. Did he bring cloth napkins? Martin certainly doesn't own any.

"Yes. They've been dating since...August 5th, I believe. So a month now actually."

"Wait, how did  _ you _ know but I didn't?" Martin asks incredulously. He drops into the chair opposite Jon, still flabbergasted.

"I walked in on them kissing in the storage cupboard," Jon replies flatly. "I told them no hanky panky on company property but that I was otherwise supportive."

Martin snorts.

"What?" Jon asks.

"Hanky panky?" Martin repeats and his snort turns into a laugh.

Jon scowls. "Eat your dinner. It's getting cold."

"Right, right," Martin says, still tittering.

Dinner goes...well. And Martin tries very hard not to linger on guilty thoughts about Georgie whenever little hopeful fantasies about Jon burst across his mind. He's allowed to have thoughts. It's his actions he has to be aware of.

After the dishwasher is loaded, and Jon packs up, he hesitates by the door. Martin feels that same thick silence from earlier fall between them. It's the sort of tension he has no idea how to handle. He would think it was...well,  _ romantic _ tension if it were with anyone else. Like maybe Jon wants to kiss him but is working up the nerve. But that's obviously ridiculous for more than one reason and it's probably Martin misinterpreting Jon's general awkwardness. It wouldn't be the first time Martin has done something like that.

"Would you still like to watch that documentary this Friday?" Jon asks, breaking through the tension with all the finesse of a battering ram. 

Martin nervously pushes his glasses up his nose even though they haven't slid down at all. It's a bad habit but he needs to do something with his hands.

"Yeah. Of course. If you're free."

"Wonderful," Jon says. His hand drops to the door handle and he pauses again. "If you're still feeling...unwell tomorrow -- or any time -- please let me know. We can work out a schedule if needed. You're a good employee, Martin, and we're all happy to have you."

Martin takes that all in. It's a lot more words than he's used to from Jon. A lot more kindness. He has no idea what to do or say. Have his hands always been this big? Why are pockets so small? 

"Right. Thanks," he says finally. "I, er, I appreciate it."

Jon nods jerkily and before Martin can say or do anything else, Jon's arms are around him for the second time that night. His stomach bottoms out and he thinks his legs might be melting into the ground. Jon is bony and small and, even in the brief flash of contact, he fits so nicely against Martin. He wants to haul him even closer, engulf him in his arms. Kiss him.

Oh, God.  _ Kiss him _ .

The hug ends before Martin can process it and Jon is halfway out the door when he says, "Goodnight, Martin."

Martin ends up saying goodnight to a closed door.

Turning over the interaction in his mind (he might never stop actually), he pulls out his phone and texts Jon.

_ Let me know when you make it home. Thanks for dinner. :) _

He doesn't even have a chance to regret the smiley face before he gets a response.

_ Anytime. _  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> absolute disaster jonathan sims meet absolute disaster martin blackwood. 
> 
> this chapter is just...i think it's almost crack at this point but i don't care. there will be AFFECTION, and HUGS, and SMOOCHES or what's the point (not in this chapter but SOON)
> 
> also there's a bit of a discussion of sex-neutral asexuality in this chapter. it's how I experience asexuality (hello projection) but will not align with everyone's experience for sure and is why this fic has a gray-ace tag. i think if we end up with any sexual content, it will be sort of hand wavey but I'm not sure it will happen at all! TBD
> 
> as always, much love for reading <3

Jon is not an optimist by nature but, despite that, he believes things between him and Martin are going quite well. Georgie wont stop teasing him over the fact that she was right and they're going to be so happy once they really get settled. 

Jon rolls his eyes every time she brings it up. He doesn't want to jinx it by being _too happy_.

But, against his better judgment, Jon _does_ feel happy. Martin comes back to work on Wednesday and Jon has no idea how he went so long without Martin's face lighting up whenever he walked into the room. In fact, he's fairly certain his presence used to have the opposite effect. But now when Jon has to help with the morning rush, Martin beams at him. Gone are the hunched shoulders and darting glances that Martin used to give him. It's just that wonderful smile that makes Jon’s stomach flutter ridiculously.

Goodness, Jon really is done for, isn't he? 

He can't even fathom how he'd been able to keep his feelings to himself for so long with Martin just being there. It really is quite vexing.

Or it would be vexing if Jon didnt feel so happy all the time. Jonathan Sims is not a happy person. He is a practical person. A get from point A to point B efficiently and feel satisfied person. But now there's this steady bubbling inside him that only increases when Martin is near. He feels like a shook up champagne bottle which shouldn’t feel good but somehow does.

It doesn’t help that Jon feels a certain swell of pride every time Martin laughs at something he says. He'd clearly been in some sort of funk earlier in the week and seeing little bits of his usual joy, joy Jon can give him, is satisfying in a way very few things are.

Jon would be pleased with the entire week really if it wasn’t for Elias. It always comes back to Elias. The bastard of a franchise owner who treats this particular branch like the red-headed step-child of his empire.

Martin steps into his office just as he's finished berating his computer for having the audacity to show him an email from Elias.

"Oh," Martin says and his shoulder start to hunch. Jon hates it and he almost snaps at him to stand up straight but stops just in time. He shouldn't take out his frustrations on other people. He might forget that sometimes but he's trying to do better. Working at Magnus has helped a lot. Both Sasha and Tim have no qualms about giving him a piece of their mind when he snaps. 

Martin shrinks even further in on himself and says, "Sorry. I was going to ask if we were still on for tonight but we can chat later or...or cancel. If it's a bad time."

Jon realizes with a start that it is Friday. He’d known that when he woke up. He'd been looking forward to it all week. But all this Elias nonsense has distracted him.

He pushes his fingers behind his glasses and rubs at his eyes. It doesn’t alleviate the frustration. "It's fine. It's just Elias being...Elias."

He lets out a long sigh and drops his hands into his lap.

"Oh,'' Martin says before hesitantly sitting in the rickety metal folding chair Jon keeps in his office for when he has to have chats with the employees. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jon almost says no. He doesn't talk about things. Talking about upsetting things is what other people do. Jon grips onto them tight until they splodge out of his fingers like jello. But Martin is here, looking at him with his big brown eyes and hesitant smile. He has so many freckles. They probably cover every inch of him. Jon has a very strong urge to kiss Martin's cheek which is strange and unnecessary so he ignores it.

He remembers why he and Georgie ultimately didn't work. Because he was emotionally closed off, Georgie had said. He doesn't want that to be an issue with Martin.

He takes a deep breath.

"Yes, well, I've been trying to convince Elias to allow an LGBTQ coalition to host events here but he says he doesn't want to take a political stance which I believe is just corporate lingo for homophobia."

Martin blinks at him. "You want us to host...LGBTQ events?"

"Of course. I used to help facilitate at the library before the branch closed and the president of the coalition said they were looking for a change of venue." Gerry had said something about free snacks and Jon had ignored him. "I didn't think it would be an issue."

"Well, Elias cant stop people from meeting here. There's no reason the group can't host things even if it's not sanctioned or anything,'' Martin points out and Jon honestly can't believe he hadn't thought of that.

Though perhaps it made sense. He's always had trouble seeing the forest for the trees.

"Martin, that's brilliant!" he cries and he means it. 

Martin starts to turn a lovely shade of red under all those freckles. It's a nice picture. Martin with his big glasses and mop of hair, his blue hoodie underneath his black Magnus apron. Looking at Martin is comforting. That's the only way to describe it.

Martin clears his throat and glances at his lap where he's fiddling with his fingers nervously. "Great! I’m, er, glad I could help."

Jon smiles at him and the expression feels easy in a way it so rarely does. "Sasha is closing tonight so we can go to yours when we get off shift?"

"Yeah, that's-- that works,'' Martin says, shooting to his feet. 

As Martin leaves, Jon is unable to stop smiling. He pulls out his phone and texts Gerry Martin's solution. Gerry sends back a gif of a cat whose meaning is incomprehensible but which is very cute despite that.

He supposes it means Gerry is pleased with the suggestion and that's good enough.

**

Martin's flat is within walking distance of Magnus which Jon is rather thankful for. After a day on his feet, his knees always give him grief.

Martin is fidgety beside him as he leads him up the stairs as if Jon has never been here before. He can't account for it. Though they’d only had two dates now— or three if you counted Jon bullying Martin into dinner— they’ve known each other for quite some time and he doesn’t think Martin should be nervous of all things. 

_You used to yell at him_ , Jon’s brain reminds him helpfully. He scowls.

When they get inside, Martin busies himself making tea and Jon drifts into the living room to inspect the bookshelf in the corner. It’s habit. He likes books. He likes seeing what other people read.

There’s a handful of poetry books. Some authors he recognizes; Keats, Dickinson, Cummings. Others are foreign; Bishop, Siken, O’Hara. Perhaps he’ll allow himself a cursory Google once he’s home. He’s not big on poetry but he is open to learning new things and if Martin is interested…

“Here’s your tea.”

Jon jumps at the interruption, but takes the tea. The weather has been edging into cold so the warm mug feels good in his hands. 

“I’m just going to change,” Martin says with an awkward gesture towards his bedroom. “I smell like milk.”

Jon nods and goes to the couch, curling his legs up under himself. Martin stares at him for a moment before saying, “Right,” and disappearing down the hall.

Martin’s couch, despite its dilapidated appearance, is quite comfortable, worn in places and well-used. Jon sinks into it and relishes the way it feels like a hug. Martin reappears in a cable-knit oatmeal colored jumper that looks like it would have an amazing texture if Jon ever managed to touch it. It is probably soft with just the right amount of give. 

For some unknown reason, Martin looks embarrassed as he pulls up Netflix and takes a seat on the far end of the sofa. There’s a good four feet between them which is unnecessary by Jon’s estimation. If they are...dating now (the word makes Jon want to sneer but it is accurate and therefore he must use it), it doesn’t make sense to maintain such distance. The thought makes him want to laugh. Jon’s personal space issues have personal space issues. Martin seems to have bypassed the lot with one hug. Now all Jon wants is for Martin to close the distance between them. Maybe put his arm around Jon, let Jon lean into that squishy looking sweater that drapes over an even squishier looking Martin.

When did Jon become a cuddler?

A voice suspiciously Georgie like whispers, _don't lie to yourself you've always been a cuddler_

Jon ignores it.

He thinks Martin would be a good cuddler. The two hugs they shared were warm and soft. And Martin is bigger than Jon so if he wants the firm pressure all along his back that soothes him into sleep (and that he usually gets by pressing against the far wall of his bedroom huddled into the fetal position) then he can get it.

Martin's chest is probably very soft and nice and Jon could press his face into it while Martin scratched his scalp. He gets goosebumps just thinking about it.

Jon’s sexuality is complicated to everyone but Jon. He views it like this: sex is objectively gross but it can be fun if your partner enjoys themself. His libido is fairly low (nonexistent) but the handful of times he slept with someone it was fine. He liked how much they liked it. He thinks he'd like to know the noises Martin would make. He'd like to see Martin happy and relaxed. He'd like to feel Martin skin to skin and be held.

Most people do not understand the distinction between sexual desire and that sort of desire but Jon understands it just fine.

But mostly Jon just wants to close the distance between them on the couch. He's so absorbed in trying to strategize that he forgets he’s holding tea until he spills it on himself. He yelps and Martin is in front of him immediately, taking away the now mostly empty cup and apologizing for reasons completely lost on Jon.

“It’s not your fault,” Jon snaps (there goes the resolution to snap less), holding his shirt out from his body so the hot liquid can cool.

Martin scurries off and gets a towel when he presses against Jon’s chest and legs without a second thought. Jon doesn’t want to admit it but being fussed over is a bit soothing.

“Let me get you a shirt. Or something. We can put that in the wash. I’m so sorry,” Martin says again, dropping the wet towel on the coffee table.

“I don’t know what on earth you’re sorry for. It’s not as if you dropped the tea on me.”

“Right, I’ll just...shirt,” Martin says before rushing off again.

Jon sighs and stands, unbuttoning the shirt. At least it’s black and won’t bear the permanent mark of his silly efforts to get Martin to touch him. Perhaps he should be direct. This sort of subterfuge is not his forte.

He tosses his shirt onto the coffee table with a sullen grunt. A choked noise draws his attention and he looks up to see Martin standing at the edge of the hallway, eyes wide in his face. His eyebrows are nearly to his hairline and a shirt is clutched so tightly in his hands that his knuckles are white.

Jon realizes then he should maybe have changed in the bathroom. He’d been frustrated and not thinking. And now he is shirtless in Martin’s living room being _looked at_. 

Finally, Martin crosses the room and thrusts the article of clothing into Jon’s chest, looking anywhere but at Jon. “It’s definitely going to be too big. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Jon grumbles and he’s shocked when it doesn’t sound mean. Perhaps he is making progress.

It turns out the shirt is actually a soft, thin jumper and when he pulls it over his head, it feels nice against his skin. He does have to roll the cuffs up so they don’t swamp his hands but it’s nice. And smells like Martin. Sweet and homey.

He curls back up on the sofa, pointedly sitting further in the middle, and Martin asks, “So...do you want more tea?”

He can’t help it. He laughs. It’s more of a snort really, but still a laugh. “I’m quite alright, Martin. Thank you.”

Martin shuffles on his feet, clearly nervous as he glances at the two available corners of the sofa but Jon holds his ground. Finally, Martin drops down beside him and holds up the remote.

“So you said it was a documentary on urban legends? What was it called?”

“Fear Itself,” Jon says, very pleased that his gambit worked. Martin is slowly relaxing beside him and as the intro plays, Jon thinks this night will turn out very well indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for martin being a sad boy in this one

Martin is screaming internally because John is standing shirtless _in his living room_ , looking comfortable as anything and Martin can. Not. deal. With. It.

It would be fine. Probably. If Martin couldn’t see the swirl of hair around his belly button which looks soft and Martin wants to push his face into and kiss because Jon, despite being so very thin, has a tummy. A tiny little belly. Martin is dying inside. He is. 

And Jon needs to put on a shirt immediately.

Or never.

But also immediately.

Sitting next to Jon on the sofa is a small torture. Apparently, he's decided no space between them is a good amount of space and Martin would rather die than say _scoot over_ so instead, he slowly shrivels up inside as Jon's knee bumps his, as their hands brush, as Jon's elbow leans into his side.

It is _so much_.

It doesn’t help that Jon happens to be wearing his clothes, the red material of the jumper slouching around his slim frame in a way that is unfair and beautiful and just...Martin could write a poem about it. He might actually. _I could trace my love for you in the way my clothes wrap round your shoulders..._

He is done for.

And all Martin can think about is putting his arm around Jon and letting Jon lean against him for real or, God forbid, Jon laying down with his head in Martin's lap. Martin could run his fingers through his hair, finally find out if the gray has a different texture than the black.

Martin could _maybe_ forget Jon is so close and get lost in the documentary if the man wasn't so sodding warm. He's like a little space heater whirring away beside Martin. It's sort of nice, but all it really does is increase Martin's urge to hold him.

It's utterly terrible and Martin is going to hell.

What he needs to do is organize some sort of activity with Jon and Georgie at the same time. Then Jon will have his girlfriend and Martin will _not_ feel like a homewrecker whatsoever.

It certainly doesn't help things that now he knows Jon is part of some sort of LGBTQ coalition which skyrockets the likelihood that Jon is into guys.

But it doesn't matter, Martin reminds himself for the fiftieth time as Jon moves beside him and he gets another whiff of what has to be almond shampoo, because he has a girlfriend.

**

Martin works Sunday after a blissful day off not thinking about Jon.

(This is a lie. He wrote three poems. One about a red jumper and two about unrequited, impossible love).

But Jon is also scheduled to work Sunday and when he sees Martin he smiles. "Good morning, Martin. Did you have a good day off?"

Martin stammers through pleasantries and goes to clock in and wash up. It's been weeks since Jon has started to be nicer to him but he still gets tongue tied every time. Is it his fault that Jon looks so handsome when he smiles? No. Martin's pretty sure it's not.

Tim saunters into the back room while Martin is still vigorously scrubbing his hands. He ignores the fact that Martin is clearly busy and elbows him. “How was Friday date night?"

Martin glances at him and Tim is doing a lascivious thing with his eyebrows. "It wasn't a date," Martin insists. "Jon and I are just friends."

Tim crosses his arms and leans against the wall, unimpressed. "Really? You might want to tell Jon that."

Before Martin can ask what the hell that means, Jon appears in the doorway and tells them to get back to work. 

Business as usual then.

It goes on like this for weeks. Jon is nice to him more often than not and even though Georgie stops by and the two go out to lunch so they’re clearly still together, he and Jon still go to dinner in the evenings and have movie nights and Georgie is never there. He tries to hint at Jon that he'd be ok if Georgie wanted to come along, that he likes Georgie a lot, but Jon, as always, seems deliberately obtuse.

And it's not just _being_ nice, Jon starts _doing_ nice things. Like making sure he has Martin's favorite tea at his apartment. 

"I noticed it was the kind you had at yours and it only made sense to purchase some for my flat since you’re spending time here."

And when October hits and it's officially been six weeks of what Martin is starting to think of as Jon’s _insane behavior_ , Martin has a few more bad days and has to call in sick. Jon sends him cat memes periodically throughout the day even though he's working and Martin _knows_ how he is about phones on shift. He even sends Martin an honest to god smiley face which makes Martin feel like his chest is caving in.

Two months ago, he had thought he was safe in this tiny, useless, unrequited love but now it's grown, taken over his whole heart and it's starting to hurt because it's utterly impossible.

And when Jon comes over later that night with Chinese takeaway and they sit on the couch and watch cartoons, Jon doesn't even complain once about it being childish. That's his favorite thing to do when Martin picks the movies they watch. But Martin likes children’s movies. They're happy! And he thinks he's turning Jon around on them.

Jon hugs him goodnight—a thing they just _do_ now—and it lingers long enough that Martin can breathe in the soft almond smell of Jon's shampoo. He has the insane urge to press a kiss to his hair but resists.

When he finally shuts the door behind him it's with a new and melancholy resolve. He needs to put some space between them. This isn't healthy. He can't do it anymore.

**

Martin feels terrible. Every time Jon tries to set something up— their usual Friday movie nights or an impromptu dinner— he begs off. He knows his excuses are getting increasingly flimsy but he can’t _do_ it anymore. His poor heart can’t take it.

It’s not really Jon’s fault. At this point, Martin is pretty sure Jon isn’t trying to lead him on and whenever he sees Jon and Georgie together, he’s certain there’s genuine affection there. But Martin has pined and broken his heart enough in his life. He’s done. It’s decided. He is putting space between himself and Jonathan Sims.

“What did you do?” Sasha asks on their lunch break two weeks after Martin’s decision.

Martin swallows his bite of sandwich. “What?”

“Jon’s been moping something fierce. I’m guessing it has something to do with you,” Sasha says, arching one perfectly manicured eyebrow. Why Martin’s coworkers have to all be so infuriatingly attractive is beyond him. 

“Why does it have to be me, huh?” Martin asks, defensive. Sasha stares at him and he deflates. “Fine, yeah. We haven’t been...I may be avoiding him a little bit.”

“Why? I thought things were going great,” Sasha says and Martin has no idea how to explain.

“It was just...it was just too much,” he says, poking sullenly at his crisps. “I dunno. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Sasha twists her lips to the side like she doesn’t really want to drop it but she says, “Alright, but I think you should talk to him at least. He really likes you.”

Martin wishes his coworkers weren’t so invested in his and Jon’s friendship. They all know how Martin feels. That should earn him at least a little understanding. Instead of saying as much, Martin hums and says he’ll think about it before changing the subject to something that doesn’t make his heart hurt.

Two days later, Jon calls him into his office. It’s nearly closing time and Martin’s feet hurt and he just wants to go home. But he’s not going to be rude. He’s probably been rude enough over the last few weeks so he follows Jon in and takes a seat in the metal chair he’s always worried he’s about to break.

“What is it?” he asks, trying to keep his voice neutral. His nerves coil tight in his stomach, telling him that this can’t be a good conversation.

Jon’s hands flutter over his desk like they’re searching for something. His fingers tap at the keyboard but push no keys and then lift a few papers before returning to fold in front of him. He glances at Martin. 

“Is everything...alright?”

Martin doesn’t know how to answer that. He really isn’t, but he can’t tell Jon that. Mostly because he’s not alright and it’s sort of Jon’s fault. It doesn’t really matter. He’s always been good about lying about how he feels so he smiles and says, falsely bright, “Yeah, I’m great. Why?”

“Oh,” Jon says and his fingers tap on the table. “Well...I wanted...You’re off Thursday evening, correct?”

“Yes?” Martin isn’t sure why he is asking. Jon knows the schedule.

“The, uh—the,” Jon begins and then clears his throat. “Right. The LGBTQ group I mentioned is planning on hosting its first event. I thought you might like to attend.”

In any other situation, Martin would love to go, but he’s not sure it’s a good idea. “I don’t know…”

“I think you would like Gerry. He’s the, uh, the president,” Jon says in a rush. “It’s a...good group. Georgie usually comes. And I invited Tim.”

Relief floods through Martin. If Tim and Georgie are there then it will be fine. Martin will be able to meet new people and it won’t just be Jon. It won’t feel like a date.

“Oh,” he says. “Alright, then. Yeah. That sounds like fun.”

Jon smiles at him and it’s so relieved that Martin’s stomach twists with guilt. He’s been cruel, hasn’t he? He should just explain himself to Jon, explain that he’s uncomfortable, that he has feelings for him and that he needs space for a bit and then they can be friends. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i do think this will be 10 chapters! thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A weird one because the pov does switch within the chapter! Structure? Dont know her!
> 
> Cw for elias bouchard being a homophobic bastard. But he gets a talking to and nothing bad happens. Also some discussion of past biphobia

Jon has no idea what he did wrong. He typically struggles to identify his social missteps but in this case, he is genuinely baffled. 

After six weeks of what he has estimated to have been remarkably successful relationship building, suddenly Martin has become distant. It began after one of Martin’s depression days. He doesn’t like to refer to them like that but Jon knows what they are and tries to be supportive. They had watched cartoons and it had been fine. Even though Jon had hated the cartoons he hadn’t said anything but then Martin had stopped replying to his texts with anything more than a couple of words. When Jon suggested they get dinner, Martin begged off.

It has been generally awful ever since.

He’s even enlisted Georgie’s help reviewing their text exchange to see if there had been anything off putting, but she’d declared his newfound use of emojis sweet and then hit him on the arm and told him to talk to Martin instead of her.

Overall, entirely unhelpful.

Watching Martin work is its own sort of torture. Martin smiles at everyone but particularly at customers. Jon can tell which are regulars just by the wattage of Martin’s smiles. He can also tell which ones Martin doesn’t like because he always readjusts his glasses before _and_ after helping them. And Martin has started readjusting his glasses more around Jon. His chest hurts every time it happens.

As a result, he ends up spending more time in his office than he really needs to, taking on prep that usually falls to the other workers just to have an excuse to be in the kitchen instead of working beside Martin. He knows he needs to do something. He’s being a hypocrite of the worst order, warning Tim and Sasha against workplace romance because they cause strife and then causing strife of his own.

He resolves himself to fix it off work hours but since Martin seems set on avoiding any one on one time with him he has to come up with a creative solution.

And Gerry’s event is just the thing.

**

When Jon mentioned that his friend is the president of this club, Martin had subconsciously expected a certain sort of person. A Jon-like person. Not a scrawny 6 foot man who looks like the offspring of Noel Fielding and Bjork.

“Is this Martin then?” the man says, not getting up from his sprawl in one of the more comfortable armchairs closer to the stage that usually hosted the open mics.

“Martin, this is Gerry,” Jon says with a long suffering sigh that even Martin can hear a thread of fondness in. “Gerry, Martin.”

“Nice to finally meet the man Jon won’t shut up about,” Gerry says, shaking Martin’s hand. It’s a bit awkward because Gerry won’t get up but they manage.

“Um,” Martin says, glancing at Jon and trying to figure out how to respond to Gerry’s insinuation. Jon looks just as awkward as Martin feels.

A distinctly unnerving giggle draws Martin’s attention before an extremely thin man with long blond hair drops into Gerry’s lap like he lives there. He is definitely the source of the giggle and he’s wearing a shirt with the sort of loud pattern that’s as hard to look away from as it is to look at. 

“Hi, I’m Michael,” the man says, holding out his hand like he expects Martin to kiss it. 

Martin shakes it even more awkwardly and desperately wishes for someone to rescue him.

It’s just then that Georgie shows up and Martin feels like he can breathe again. She looks lovely as always and she gives Martin a hug that smells like vanilla. It makes Martin tear up a bit because he doesn’t deserve her kindness. He’s in love with her boyfriend. He’s despicable.

“Martin! It’s been a while,” she says warmly when she pulls away. “I’m glad to see you.”

Melanie comes in behind her and Martin sees she’s recently dyed her hair blue. It clashes with her purple leather jacket but in a cool way. Martin wishes he were half as cool.

“Jon,” Melanie says archly when she sees him. Jon inclines his head in response and Martin wonders, not for the first time, what their deal is. Whenever Melanie comes into Magnus they’re always terse with each other. How had Georgie put it?

A Melanie buffer. Jon always needs a Melanie buffer.

Martin gets herded around until he has a he/him pronoun sticker and they’re all loitering around various tables. Tim shows up just to lean over the counter by the till and flirt with Sasha. The only customers are really the people at the gathering so it doesn’t matter. Martin thinks it’s nice to see them having a good time actually. Tim had confided in him in the past about a few of his shittier relationships where his partners hadn’t really gotten the whole bisexual thing. From what Tim’s said, it sounds like Sasha gets it. She doesn’t think it’s a phase or that his flirting with everything that moves means that he’s promiscuous or that she’s not enough for him. 

From what Tim’s said, they’re really happy.

Martin can’t help but be a little jealous. He wants a nice boyfriend who gets him. 

Jon is caught up in the corner arguing with Melanie while Georgie watches, looking distinctly amused. It’s a nice picture even if it makes envy twist in his gut. The affection on her face is so clear. 

“Do you want to see a photo of Jon when he was in a punk band in uni?”

Martin jumps, only to realize Gerry is standing next to him. They are of a height which is a pretty rare thing given that Martin towers over most people. 

“What?” Martin asks incredulously, so shocked that for a moment he forgets to be heartbroken over Jon.

“He wore eyeliner,” Gerry says wickedly, already pulling out his phone and swiping it open. Martin can’t say no to that. He can’t even if he should and good lord, is he glad that he didn’t because, in the pictures, 1) Jon is wearing tight black pants and 2) Gerry’s promise of eyeliner was a real one. 

“I mean, Jon’s not normally a looker but hooo-eee,” Gerry says, tilting the phone so that the glare disappears. Martin’s certain his face is red. It has to be red.

“Gerry, what are you doing?” Jon demands, drawing up in front of then with a deadly serious expression.

Gerry smoothly clicks off his phone and slips it into his pocket. “Just showing your boy, Martin, that you knew what fashion was once upon a time.”

Jon runs a hand through his hair, mussing it in a way that is unfairly sexy. It's all unfair. Martin wants to lay down. Or maybe scream. Or both. Once upon a time, Jon was hot. Really hot. And now he’s just Jon which is still unfairly hot. 

Martin is going to explode. 

“Stop making Martin uncomfortable,” Jon scolds.

“No, it’s--it’s alright,” Martin says, waving his hands, wishing the gesture could somehow dispel Jon’s scowl.

Gerry smirks. “See, Martin doesn’t mind.”

“Is this Martin?” A new voice asks.

Martin can’t fathom why _everyone_ in the group knows who he is, but when he turns around he finds a tall woman with the sort of nose that looks like it was wonky to start but then got broken a few times along the way. Beside her is a woman in a hijab with eyeliner that could kill.

“Um,” Martin manages to say.

Gerry claps him on the shoulder. “That’s Daisy and her partner, Basira. They’re great at giving Jon shit so you’ll get along fine.”

“Does everyone here bully Jon?” Martin asks, glancing around the steadily growing group of people who all seem genuinely happy to be there.

“Yes,” the entire group responds as Jon scowls at the lot of them.

Daisy rubs her jaw thoughtfully. “Not our fault really. Look at him. Easy to make fun of.”

“Thank you for your input,” Jon says darkly. 

Daisy huffs a laugh, more snort than anything, pushing past Jon and purposefully knocking their shoulders together. He makes a dramatic noise of distress bu Martin can see him smile.

It's absolutely lovely.

If this goes on much longer, Martin thinks his heart might break entirely.

**

Jon thinks things are going well. He's not surprised that Martin gets along with everyone. He has that sort of personality. Gerry takes a particular shine to him which Jon isn't sure if he should have put a stop to or not.

Overall, it's a good night. He can see Martin start to relax. His smiles become easier. Once the night winds down, then Jon will talk to him. He will.

Or he would if Elias Bouchard didn't choose 7:30 PM to walk into his branch of Magnus coffee and clear his throat expectantly. 

"Elias," Jon stammers upon seeing him, heart plummeting into his feet. 

"Jonathan," Elias says and his voice cuts through the conversation like knife until it dies around them. "We discussed this. Hosting politically aligned events is against policy."

"This is not politically aligned," Jon begins, hackles raising.

"You are mistaken," Elias says. "Anything dealing with you people is considered political and I will have no part in it. Leave."

Jon is ready to snap, to defend his friends, his fucking way of life, but he doesnt have to because Martin brushes past him and steps between him and Elias.

Martin draws himself up to his full height and it is a sight to see. Jon hasn't realized how much Martin slouches until this very moment. Elias is Jon's height and Martin dwarfs him.

"What did you say, Elias?"

Not Mr. Bouchard. Elias.

A shiver runs down Jons spine. It feels good.

"I said that you people need to leave."

"Now that's interesting," Martin says coolly, voice somehow not breaking in the face of Elias's steely gaze as he holds out his phone, screen facing Elias. "You people. I think I know what you mean when you say you people. And I think when I post this recording of your very interesting, very political opinion on Twitter, everyone else will know what it means as well."

Elias's eyes go wide at the implication. "I can simply fire you."

Martin scoffs and Jon thinks he might break but he doesn't. It's magnificent. 

"And how kindly do you think the executives at Magnus will treat the homophobic franchise owner who fired his gay employee after he met up unofficially with some friends after work?" Martin says tartly, voice wavering only slightly

Jons head is spinning. These are the most words he's ever heard Martin put together. He sounds cold and angry and it is beautiful.

"That's how you get cancelled!" Michael cries, clapping with delight and Gerry lets out a low "oooo" like they've both just delivered the world's sickest burn.

Elias ignored them and passes his hand over his slicked back hair once and then squares his shoulders and clears his throat. "Fine. I cant stop you from...socializing."

"No, you can't," Martin says sharply.

"I'll just be leaving then," elias says.

"That'd be best," Martin says and it is _bitchy_ and Jon is in love.

The door shuts soundly behind Elias and the room erupts into applause and various whoops and Jon is in love.

Jon is in _love._

"Suck on it, Elias," Gerry yells like he even knew who Elias was prior to the last ten minute conversation and then he turns and kisses Michael square on the mouth. The other man squeaks but returns the kiss and then all the couples get in on it with variations of the same rallying cry.

Jon had known he had feelings for Martin. that being with Martin felt safe and warm and being near him was the closest Jon had felt to happy in a long time but love...

"Fuck homophobes!" Tim yells before kissing Sasha who shoves at him playfully. 

"I don't know if heterosexual kissing proves the point," she says but she's laughing.

"What about bisexual kissing?" Tim replies and then they're kissing again.

Martin is big and beautiful and Jon had noticed him that day so long ago and Martin, it turns out, had at some point noticed him back and Martin likes tea and also penguins but not as much as baby pandas which Jon knows because he sends Jon videos of them, and Martin gives good hugs that smell like perfectly cooked pastries and Jon _loves him_.

Melanie has wrapped her arms around Georgie and tugged her down into a kiss as the whole room laughs and cheers. It's nice to see everyone happy but Jon is in love and his brain can't hold in that information for a moment longer if he wants to remain upright.

He bites out a terse _excuse me_ and stumbles for the employee exit where he can collapse against the brick wall in the alley and breathe garbage-scented air in peace. Where he can tell himself that its ok that he's in love with Martin even though he's already ruined everything.

Or else he would be able to if Martin didn't choose then to follow him. Weeks pushing him away and now he decides he cares again. But when Jon looks up, ready to say something biting, he finds he can't because Martin's brown eyes are wide and kind and Jon just saw him absolutely decimate his asshole boss. He feels giddy with it.

“Jon, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Martin gasps as his palms grasp Jon’s shoulders in clear concern.

“Why?” Jon asks, still high on his feelings and also the fact that Martin is touching him. “That was remarkable. You're remarkable.”

Martin frowns slightly which doesn’t seem right. “Did you not see...Georgie and Melanie? They kissed?”

“Well, yes,” Jon says, not following why Martin seems so utterly distressed. “They do that sometimes. They’re dating.”

Martin’s hands fall to his sides and his mouth drops open. “What?!”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chap of plot and then an epilogue!!!


	9. Chapter 9

Martin stares at Jon and tries to piece together the shattered remains of his understanding of the universe.

Georgie and Melanie are dating. Which means Georgie and Jon are not dating. How long have they not been dating for? Has Jon been— has Jon been— 

As much as Martin tries to grasp at the very obvious conclusion staring him in the face, he can’t because it is too mortifying to contemplate. He drops his hands from Jon’s shoulders and sucks in a deep breath.

“Martin, are you quite alright?” Jon asks and his voice is so nice and deep and Martin’s stomach twists with guilt because he likes Jon too much and he shouldn’t like Jon. Except...

“You’re not dating Georgie?” Martin asks, shocked at how normal the words sound when he feels as if he isn’t breathing. 

Jon’s eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“It’s not like...a polycule with you and her and Melanie?”

“No!” Jon says, taken aback. “Melanie? Of course not. I’m not dating either of them. I thought I was dating you until a few weeks ago when you decided to stop speaking to me.”

Martin collapses onto the small step outside the employee exit door. It is not a seat and definitely does not fit someone of his size but he can’t stand up a second longer and would rather have his knees crammed up uncomfortably against his chest than get a concussion by falling face first into a garbage-scented puddle. He drops his head into his hands and breathes deeply in a futile attempt to calm his racing heart.

“We—you think that you…that  _ we— _ ”

He tries to look up at Jon and finds he can’t. His hands are shaking and his vision is going sideways.

“Martin, I am about to say something and it is perhaps ridiculous but, based on your current reaction, I’m starting to believe that you don’t know we are dating,” Jon says without any intonation whatsoever. 

“We aren’t!” Martin says, surging to his feet. Jon is just standing there, looking flabbergasted. His eyes are dark in the dim light of the alley and they flash behind the lenses of his glasses, pretty as starlight.

“You could have told me that!” Jon counters, eyebrows furrowing.

“You could have told me!” Martin retorts. 

“I asked you to drinks,” Jon says, lips curling back in a familiar sneer Martin is now realizing he hasn’t seen for eight weeks. Not since…

“Do you mean at Grifter’s?” Martin asks incredulously. “Telling me you wanted to  _ do this again _ after we had drinks with two other people? And I was supposed to what? Know that was a date?”

“Yes!” Jon cries, throwing his hands up in the air as he turns around, making a frustrated noise. He runs his hands through his hair, long fingers tangling in the strands. He’s so beautiful in that strange way of his and apparently, they’ve been  _ dating _ for nearly two months and Martin had been none the wiser. “I’ve been sending you emojis for christ’s sake.”

Martin can’t help it. That’s what breaks him. The tipping point. He buries his face in his hands and starts to laugh. Really laugh. This is absurd. He’s been breaking his heart over Jon for weeks and it didn’t even matter. His shoulders shake and his eyes grow wet with mirth. This is ludicrous.

"Wonderful,” Jon says bitterly, drawing Martin’s attention. “I fall in love with you and all you can do is laugh at me. That's certainly typical, isn't it. You don’t even like me. I knew you couldn’t possibly."

The laughter leaves Martin like air from a balloon. Jon looks disgruntled. Upset even. Martin should probably say something reassuring, something fond but all he can do is— 

He ducks his head and presses their mouths together. Their noses bump awkwardly and their glasses knock. Jon freezes, hands flying up like he’s about to be arrested but as soon as Martin pulls away those hands sink into the fabric of his hoodie and hold him in place.

"You kissed me," Jon says, chin tilted stubbornly so he can meet Martin's eye.

"You said you loved me."

"Oh," Jon says and some of the defiance disappears. "Yes. I suppose I did."

"It's a huge relief actually. Since I’ve been in love with you for ages," Martin says, dopey grin overtaking his face. It doesn't have long to linger because Jon steps up onto the small ledge by the door and cups Martin’s face in his hands so they can kiss again.

Jon is still slightly shorter than him but Martin no longer has to stoop down. His arms go around Martin’s neck and just hold him as they kiss. Short sipping kisses that thrill Martin to the tips of his toes. Long relaxed kisses until Jon is melting back against the door, still holding him close.

Martin satisfies his long-held curiosity and sinks his hands into Jon’s hair. It's thick and just as silky as it looks and when he pushes it back from Jon’s face he can cradle Jon’s skull with his palm. Jon leans into him, a short breathy sound escaping his throat.

Martin would call this making out if there were any tongues involved but there aren't and that's sort of nice. Just these slow kisses that don't feel like they are headed in any direction. Like Jon is kissing him for kissing’s sake. The thought has Martin pulling Jon even closer.

When they finally break apart, Jon tips his forehead against Martin’s shoulder. "That was quite…"

"Yeah," Martin replies, knowing he sounds like a dreamy fool. Jon huffs a fond laugh, the breath hot through Martin's hoodie.

"Perhaps we should talk," Jon offers as he hesitantly pulls away. "I'm not sure…"

Martin’s stomach plummets had he misunderstood? Does Jon not want him this way?

"I think it would be best for us to hammer out the details before moving forward," Jon amends. "To avoid any further misunderstanding."

Martin can't stay worried in the face of that proclamation. It is so incredibly Jon. Fussy and overly analytical. 

"Yeah," Martin says as he steps back and tries to fix his hair. It's probably a mess.  _ Because Jon just ran his fingers through it while kissing you,  _ Martin thinks hysterically. "That's a good idea."

Jon smiles at him, a bit crooked. Which is new and makes Martin’s heart beat wildly. He reaches up and adjusts Martin's curls before tweaking his glasses. He frowns. "You look...well, you look like you've been snogging and I'm not sure if the room at large will be polite enough to look the other way. They’re hardly discrete."

Martin grimaces, just imagining the sort of things Tim would say. "Maybe we dip out through the alley?"

"My thoughts exactly."

**

Jon is definitely sitting at a table at Grifter’s and, at some point, he walked here with Martin and Martin is getting drinks at the bar but in his mind Jon is still in that alley, pressed back against the emergency exit door being kissed by one Martin Blackwood.

He would sigh dreamily if he were the sort to do so.

It was a Very Good kiss.

"I got you that red you like,'' Martin says, sliding into the chair across from him and passing him a glass of wine before tucking into his own pint.

Martin’s hand looks very nice around the pint glass. Very big. The other one is on the table and realistically Jon could hold it. Actually, Jon should hold it. Just to avoid any further miscommunication.

He reaches out and tucks their fingers together.

Martins sputters and turns red. Jon tries to snatch his hand back but Martin won’t let him, holding fast onto his fingers.

"It's alright," Martin rushes to say. "You startled me."

Jon clears his throat and tries valiantly to not be embarrassed. Romance is mortifying.

“So just to be clear,” Martin begins. “Was tonight supposed to be a date?”

“To be clear,” Jon retorts acerbically, “Every invitation I’ve extended in the last two months was intended as a date.”

Martin’s eyes go wide behind his glasses. The low light of the bar makes them a warm honey brown and Jon likes him so much that he can’t even be irritated by his incredulity. 

“What? Really?” Martin pulls his hand back but it doesn’t feel like a rejection. He scrubs his palm over his mouth and lets out a long breath. “I can’t believe I’ve missed out on eight weeks of dating you. I thought you just felt bad for being a prick for so long.”

Jon nearly chokes on his sip of wine. “Excuse me!”

Martin gives him a flat look. 

“Fine, yes. I didn’t exactly,” Jon grits his teeth, “handle my feelings for you in a professional manner.”

Martin snorts but graciously does not comment.

They drink in silence for a moment and then Martin says, “Maybe this can be our first date then?”

He sounds hesitant and sweet and very  _ Martin  _ about it all. Affection spreads, warm and wide, through Jon’s chest.

“Yes,” he says and Martin’s grin is blinding. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“You might not even need notes this time,” Martin says, obviously teasing.

“Shut up,” Jon replies, but he can’t stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chap aka an extremely unnecessary and fluffy epilogue!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFFY! EPILOGUE!
> 
> Some discussions of asexuality in this chapter. Again they align more with my personal experience and are probably on the gray ace spectrum.  
> Also some hand wavey sex in here.

Jon pushes his face into Martin’s sternum which earns him a wap between the shoulder blades. 

“You know I hate it when you breathe through my shirt,” Martin chides but there’s no heat in it, just pure affection. The little warning tap to his back has become more of a scritch and now Martin is running his hand down Jon’s back. 

The whole curling up on Martin’s chest and sleeping forever plan is starting to look extremely appealing.

It’s been six weeks since that second first date and it’s almost Christmas. Jon doesn’t exactly celebrate but Martin does and outside the safety of the bedroom, Jon knows there is a Christmas tree and an abundance of garish decorations that are deeply unappealing. But Martin likes them and the jubilant look on his face when they decorated the tree is worth every slightly creepy figurine and too bright bit of golden tinsel. 

Since Jon doesn’t celebrate, he volunteered to work the day of the holiday, leaving Tim and Sasha to have time with their families. Martin also volunteered, muttering something about needing a distraction, that caught Jon’s ear and made him certain he would need to plan something for after their shift. Probably something that involves those dreadful stop-motion cartoons. And maybe chocolates. Martin likes chocolates.

But Christmas is still a week away and today is a blissful Saturday in which Jon gets to lay atop his boyfriend in the cocoon of blankets that is his very comfortable bed. They’d stayed up too late watching Cosmos the night before (Martin had never seen it, truly a massive oversight). Jon stays over frequently enough that he has his own set of pajamas and toothbrush which has proven very useful over the past few weeks.

Martin’s hand has come to rest at the small of his back, Jon’s t-shirt rucked up just enough so his pinky and ring finger lay against exposed skin, a brand Jon can’t ignore. He brushes them back and forth, pulling Jon’s shirt up even further until it’s his whole hand resting there in the notch just above the waistband of his pajama bottoms. He wonders if Martin is doing it on purpose. He doubts it.

Their relationship has been fairly above the belt, making out on the couch a few times which had been nice. One time Martin had done this thing, hauling Jon into his lap like he just needed Jon to be closer and it had made Jon’s head spin in a very good way. Jon doesn’t think Martin Blackwood has a seductive bone in his body. Jon certainly doesn’t.

He sighs and it’s not in contentment.

“Martin,” he begins.

Martin hums and it does sound contented. Jon almost regrets what he’s about to do. 

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

Jon is unceremoniously dumped on his back amongst the pillows as Martin gapes at him. “What?”

“Sex,” Jon says flatly, waiting for Martin to catch up with him. It may be a shocking question but it is not a difficult one.

Martin runs a hand through his mussed ginger curls. They’re all flat in the back from sleeping and puffy on one side. It’s adorable and Jon’s stomach gives an untimely flop just from looking at him. He really does love him very much.

“I mean...do you?” Martin asks with a wince. “I sort of thought...maybe you weren’t attracted to me like that? Whenever we—you know, do anything, you never...god, I hate this conversation— have any response so I just thought we weren’t...gonna do that…”

“Ah,” Jon says with a flash of understanding. He supposes that if he were otherwise inclined, snogging with his boyfriend on the couch and never encountering any sort of erection would be a bit discouraging. “My sexual responses are unpredictable at best. However, I do appreciate other...erm, aspects of sexual encounters. And if it’s something you like, I’d like to as well.”

Martin hesitates. “Really? I mean, that’s hardly a ringing endorsement. I don’t want you to have sex with me because you think you  _ have to _ or something.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Please. I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t amenable to the possibility.”

"Oh," Martin says, staring at him for a long stretched-out moment before dropping his eyes to the duvet and plucking at an exposed string. "Of I do, Jon. You're— God, you're so beautiful."

Jon’s face heats and he’s oddly thankful for his darker skin and the way it hides his more embarrassing responses. Tugging at the hem of Martin's shirt, he says, "Take this off."

Martin hesitates again, too long, too long, but then peels off the ratty red shirt and Jon’s first impression is freckles. A sea of them. They're patchier on Martin's sides, like they've been rubbed off and somehow thicker on his chest. Martin's gaze skates off and Jon, despite being terrible at this sort of thing, recognizes self consciousness in the depth of the line between his eyebrows.

Objectively, Jon knows Martin might not be the pinnacle of societal beauty but Jon has always known society is stupid. Because Martin has a pretty belly that swells up underneath pretty breasts and they're all, the whole of them, bathed in freckles, just like Martin's broad face, just like his broad arms.

Jon launches himself across the bed and buries his face back into Martin's chest. He has the barest bit of soft ginger chest hair and he smells like sleep and sweet Martin and it is nice.

Martin hesitantly brings his arms around him. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Jon grumbles into his skin. "My boyfriend is very handsome."

Martin laughs and it tickles Jon’s hair. "You're a bit weird."

"Yes," Jon says again. No point denying the obvious truth.

"I like it," Martin says and kisses his head. "Now you take your shirt off."

Jon reluctantly sits up and does exactly that.

Jon doesnt get off but Martin does and he makes a lot of  _ very good  _ noises and says Jon;s name in a way that Jon looks forward to hearing again. And it’s messy, which Jon doesn't enjoy whatsoever, but he puts up with it because Martin kisses him sweetly and says that he's beautiful, that he loves him, and that he can't believe how lucky he is.

Jon finds he agrees wholeheartedly.

**

"If I have to make another peppermint mocha, I am going to kill myself," Martin groans, collapsing against the counter as the rush finally dies down.

Jon glances at him but keeps cleaning the espresso machine. "I'd prefer you didn't as that would ruin my after work plans."

Jon is wearing a garish Christmas bowtie that Martin got him as a joke and bullied him into wearing for their holiday shift. He grumbled the whole time putting it on but it really was proof of what Martin has known from the start—Jon is a big softie under that prickly exterior.

Obviously, he is still a dick sometimes and Martin doesn't hesitate to tell him. He is getting better at apologizing though. And meaning it.

"You know I love you right?" Martin says suddenly because his heart is too big for his chest and Jon is wearing a tie covered in christmas lights.

Jon glares at him. "Martin, we are at work."

Martin rolls his eyes. "Yeah, but no one’s here."

Jon heaves a put-upon sigh. "Alright, yes. I love you too."

Martin smiles and gets back to work.


End file.
